


My Name is Evelyn Trevelyan. You Are Marrying My Waifu. Prepare to Die

by acevolkner



Series: Roads Less Traveled [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-06
Updated: 2015-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:17:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3302123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acevolkner/pseuds/acevolkner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Duel Redux:<br/>1. A more authentic duelling.<br/>2. The Inquisitor being far more competent and glib that was portrayed in the in-game duel.</p>
<p>Admittedly my knowledge of duel etiquette comes from watching stabby people on TV and a month's worth of fencing lessons when I was 7 but I gave it a shot, and hopefully it'll fit nicely into this little headcanon I'm brewing spanning all 3 Dragon Ages. So yeah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Name is Evelyn Trevelyan. You Are Marrying My Waifu. Prepare to Die

Trevelyan loped casually through the gates of Skyhold, the clammy chafe of her armour only a minor annoyance now she was finally home. Between the wind, rain, giants and dragons, the Inquisitor was glad to be finished with her scouting mission to the Storm Coast and could already feel the pleasant burn of a strong bath followed by the pillowy silk of her bed calling to her. With a final nod to Dorian, Varric and the Iron Bull, Trevelyan declined the invitation for a celebratory drink, instead allowing her horse to be led to the Stables while she mounted the steps to the Throne Room, rest and relaxation mere minutes away.  
  
Passing the door to the War Room, the Inquisitor paused. It wouldn't hurt to pop in and let Lady Montilyet know of her return. Indeed, thoughts of the Inquisition's Ambassador and their fledgling relationship had kept Trevelyan sane through her recent treks, especially at nights when Dorian and Bull reverted to muted mumblings and the occasional devious chuckle that often left Trevelyan equal parts disturbed, intrigued and frustrated with just her left hand for company.  
  
 _And anyway, it's been a fortnight,_  Trevelyan reasoned to herself. _A lot can happen in a fortnight, especially when fighting world ending maleficar darkspawn demon... things. This is purely a professional visit. Clearly._  Turning the handle of the door, she pointedly ignored the spark of warmth that flared through her abdomen at the thought of Josephine's welcoming embrace, radiant smile and teasing glint-  
  
"There you are!" The Ambassador paced nervously, a frantic look in her eyes as Trevelyan walked through the door. Tensions returned to the Inquisitor's posture as her brow knit into a concerned frown, her bath now a distant memory. "I've just received the most terrible news."  
  
"What is it?" Trevelyan reached out a hand, her stomach clenching when Josephine flinched, withdrawing into herself instead.  
  
"I-I'm engaged." Josephine forced out, eyes glued to the crackling fire to her left, never bringing her gaze above shoulder height.  
  
Trevelyan stared at the Ambassador, mouth opening and closing intermittently.  _What? How? When? To me?_ Swallowing she allowed her eyes to scan the room, looking for Sera snickering behind the curtains, or under the desk, or something,  _anything. This would be a classic Sera prank. And Josie getting back at me for that blasted bucket._  
  
Finally regaining her voice, the Inquisitor could only manage a small confused squeak. Josephine gave a frustrated sigh, resuming her pacing, hand massaging her forehead and Trevelyan squirmed, the distance between her and her lover feeling like a chasm.  
  
"For the past year, my mother and father have been searching Antiva for a match for me. They-They had no idea you and I had grown so... close." Her voice quietened to a groan. "Today I received a letter declaring they've betrothed me to Lord Adorno Ciel Antranto of Antiva. I-I must deal with this. Un-Until then, we cannot be seen in a compromising situations. I-I'm sorry."  
  
Trevelyan took an unconscious step back, folding her arms across her chest, painfully aware of her dishevelled state, faint stench, mud and blood splatters all the way up to her back, tears and frays in her armour's leather and hair tangled by helmet and sweat and Maker knew what else. Trying to remain confident, Trevelyan cursed the waver in her voice.  
  
"Wh-Who exactly is this Lord?"  
  
Josephine shook her head absent mindedly, resuming her pacing as she wrought her hands together.  
  
"The second born son of Donato and Rosalie Otranto. Our families have had strong business connections for some time, and he has always been pleasant and cordial when we have spoken. I suppose, as far as these arrangements go, my parents could have done much worse. In another time, _maybe_..." Josephine trailed off, yet continued to pace, a thousand different thoughts still flitting through her mind. Behind her, Trevelyan felt as if she were going to be sick, unwelcome tears threatening to prick her eyes. _No, no no no no..._

"A-Are you saying we should act like nothing has happened between us?"  
  
Because the Inquisitor would, if that's what it took. Any form of Josie in her life would be preferable to none. Even if it made her chest ache.  _That was new, actually._ She'd never felt that happen before. That pit of despair and terror that opened just between her breasts, its strong pull tugging queasily at her navel.  _No, not like this._  
  
"No! No, not at all!" To Trevelyan's relief, Josephine looked positively offended by the idea, Pausing with a thunderous frown, her eyes boring into the Inquisitor, searchingly, taken aback for a second before her shoulders slumped in defeat. She sighed, her voice unusually quiet, crushed. "But it is not right that we carry on while I am betrothed. I must break off the match, first."  
  
"Just let me know what I c-"  
  
Josephine's lips were upon her, desperate as she ground her body into the Inquisitor, before breaking off again, but the closeness remained as Josie cradled her lover's face in her hands, stroking her cheeks with gentle thumbs as tears threatened to slip from the Ambassador's gaze. When she spoke her voice was small but insistent.  
  
" _No._  Thank you so much, but no. Until I know more, I cannot risk your reputation." She leaned into to Trevelyan's offered embrace, resting her head on the Inquisitor's chest. "I must see to this. But there is so much to do. And I doubt I will be able to keep my mind on anything today. Oh why did this have to happen to us now, of all times!"  
  
The Inquisitor's response was a simple tightening of her arms around Josie, as she rested her cheek atop her lover's head. Josephine allowed the comfort, leaning into the embrace further, babbling.  
  
"I-I'm afraid, even without the Inquisition taking precedence, untangling my engagement will take some time." She give a grim chuckle. "Antivan's are almost as bad as those in Orlais when it comes to pomp and ceremony, involving politics and legal bindings, it would be near impossible to avoid offending all parties involved. Any due process would take months, seasons, if not longer." Trevelyan could feel a small smile grow on Josie's face as the woman snorted into her chest.  
"Unless..." She shook her head, rueful. "No. This is my mess, I'm sorry for having you dragged along already. I would not subject you further. I can't ask that of you."  
  
Trevelyan nodded along, already deep in thought, ruminating. They remained standing, embraced for a few more moments, savouring the feeling, unsure of when next they would be able to indulge in one another. With Josephine calmed down, Trevelyan gave one last squeeze and deep inhale, as if taking an impression of the Antivan, and excused herself. However instead of turning up to the spire leading to her quarters, the Inquisitor gently shut the door to Josephine's study and made an immediate march for the Rookery.

 

* * *

 

 

"Sister Nightingale I find myself in dire need of-  _Leliana_?" Trevelyan caught herself at the sight that greeted her. The Spymaster sat hunched, her usual air of aloof indifference gone. Glancing up at the intruder, Leliana gave a small but genuine smile as the light caught the tear tracks running down her face and the shine of a reddened nose. She swallowed thickly and made to stand.  
  
"How may I be of assistance, Inquisitor?"  
  
Trevelyan motioned back to the seat, her current dilemma momentarily forgotten taking the chair opposite the desk, leaning in.  
  
"You could begin by telling me what's gotten you in that state. I don't have to beat up any boys, do I? Last time I did that I nearly got permanently dismissed from Templar training."  
  
Leliana's smile grew as she tapped the parchment in front of her, covered in a neat scrawl the Inquisitor was unfamiliar with.  
  
"Nothing quite so drastic. I received a response from the Hero of Ferelden. She is doing well, she misses me and I- I miss her, is all." She sighed, eyes down cast. "I can't wait for all this to be over so that I may join her again." She paused for a second, before glancing back up at the Inquisitor, mirth in her eyes. "In the nicest way possible, of course. I mean no offence to our present company."  
  
"Not at all," Trevelyan grinned in response, leaning back in her chair. "Ask her if she'd like a go at Heraldry and do some inquisiting herself, I could use a holiday. Two birds, one stone." She was pleased at the soft chuckle this drew out of the often too serious Orlesian. Appraising the Inquisitor, Leliana gave a shake of her head, voice light.  
  
"You know, you are not so different from my beloved. Your confidence and noble nature, how people simply gravitate to you. All you are missing is a big, slobbering, mangy war hound."  
  
"I've got Commander Cullen, surely?" Trevelyan leant forward, gratified at the peal of laughter she received.   
  
"I would be careful, Inquisitor. I fear it would break his heart if her ever found out he was thought of as 'mangy' with the amount of effort he places in his hair. Nevertheless," Leliana allowed her mirth to calm, her posture straight and rigid once more. "I very much needed to know my love was still out there, fighting to be with me. Thank you. It is a great relief, and I appreciate you allowing me to send the messenger." She gave one last sweep of her cheeks with her gloves, removing any remaining traces of her previous melancholy. "Can I help you with anything?"  
  
"Oh, uh, yes." Trevelyan sat up straight, her brow knitting into a small frown. Her eyes searched the desk as her mouth struggled to formulate adequate words, stuttering slightly, before blurting "Josephine's getting married."  
  
Leliana's eyebrows raised, stunned slightly. "I-Well, perhaps it is a bit premature, and I realise I may have come down on you rather strongly before, however as long as you treat her as a lady befit her statio-"  
  
"Not to me. To," Her face screwed up at the name, " _Lord Adorno Ciel Antranto of Antiva_. Quite the catch from the sound of things." she mumbled bitterly.  
Leliana leant forward slowly, resting her chin on steepled fingers as her eyes turned cold and critical.  
  
"And...?"  
  
"And!?" The Inquisitor boggled, guffawing incredulously. _I give Josie the sex eye a few times and she wants my guts for garters, but this... this **prick**  that she's barely even met, betroths himself to her and Leliana's just...  **and!?**_  "And!" A thousand different questions flitted through Trevelyan's mind, but one kept coming to the forefront. Her shoulders fell, all bluster draining from the Inquisitor.   
  
"And, D-D'you think she's better off with him?"

Leliana's posture softened at the pained expression in Trevelyan's eyes. She may have been grudging at first, but the Spymaster  _did_ approve of the young Herald's interest in Josie. She was, despite being prickly or awkward at times, a good, honest person and if she didn't have her Warden, Leliana could see herself making a play for the Inquisitor's affections. The Spymaster's brow creased in puzzlement.  
  
"How  _would_  she be better off?"  
  
"Well, he," Trevelyan gave a shrug, sighing, "He's the second born son of a powerful Antivan family. An alliance with them could see Josie restore her family to their former glory. She could have an entire fleet of merchant vessels instead of a...  _stupid toy boat._ " Evie thought back to the gift that lay on Josephine's desk, and with a pang, worry flooding her as she entertained the notion that Josie kept it there out of pity. "And I'm," She motioned to herself lamely "an unwashed, blaspheming heretic and failed Templar from some swamp on the eastern seaboard. I couldn't even die properly at the Conclave. And then, that's if I don't get murdered at the hands of bloody _Corypheshit_."  
  
Leliana remained silent, studying the Inquisitor as she sat, dejected. Her thoughts drifted back to the Blight, and Morrigan of all people. the Nightingale's brow furrowed. The witch had struck up an odd camaraderie with her Warden and in the beginning, it rankled slightly at Leliana's jealousy. It had taken her a while to understand their relationship; when others might offer hugs and sympathies, Morrigan had only given cold hard logic that at many times struck Leliana as callous and harsh. Yet her Warden had flocked to it, sometimes even responding better to the Witch than she did to the former Bard's attempts at comfort. But eventually, she had realised that when she went to the Witch, her Warden wasn't looking for a shoulder to cry on, but a presence, a friend, to keep her on track, especially when she risked derailing. Upon meeting Trevelyan, Leliana quickly grew to realise she would become this for the Inquisitor. She made a mental note to thank Morrigan, should she ever see her again. She set her face, impassive, her eyes boring into the Inquisitor.  
  
"That is all very well and good, your holiness, however I doubt you simply came up here to cry me your woes."  
  
Trevelyan sat once more, the wounded puppy expression leaving her as she gave a soft glare at the Spymaster's rebuff.  
  
"No. Of course not." She said a little too forcefully, folding her arms as a slight blush rose to her cheeks. "While Josephine was explaining the...  _technicalities_  of her betrothal, she stopped herself before mentioning 'one other way' to call the whole thing off." Letting her finger quotes fall back into her lap, the Inquisitor gazed across at Leliana beseechingly. "Is there any way to sort this that won't take an Age? I just... don't want to lose her."  
  
The Spymaster's eyes narrowed as she thought.  _What other method would Josie refrain from-_  Her eyes lit with mirth as she struggled contain a wry grin.  _Of course_. Leliana stood, turning to gaze out the window.  _She could have some fun with this._

"There is...  _one way_ , Inquisitor." Slightly too theatrical, perhaps, but it had the desired effect as she heard the scrape of the chair, Trevelyan moving to stand beside her, attention rapt. "You could propose a duel."  
  
"A duel? Just a duel? I could do that!" Relief flooded the Inquisitor. Growing up, it was all she had been interested in, duelling, much to her father's amusement and mother's chagrin. More than that, she was  _good_  at duelling. The customs and rules varied slightly from province to province, but not to any point that Trevelyan was worried. But the Spymaster's tone gave her pause.  
  
"Is there anything unique about Antivan tradition? They don't think it  _gauche_ or anything?"  
  
"No, Quite the opposite," Leliana began, nonchalant. "But they  _are_  brutal. Often to the death."  _They weren't,_ but the Inquisitor did not need to know this. Leliana wanted the dramatic atmosphere perfectly thick for this.  _Also,_  she mused,  _a powerful display by our Inquisition's leader will do wonders for the gossip merchants of Orlais and beyond._  
  
"You mustn't let him perish, however. Josephine abhors bloodshed. I would speculate that is why she refused to mention it." Again,  _it wasn't,_  Leliana knew.  _Yes,_  Josie was all infuriatingly 'niceness before knives', but the Orlesian guessed her true reason for hesitation was entirely more innocent. Simply, Josephine was embarrassed to ask the Inquisitor to duel for her honour. After all, Leliana did not lie to Trevelyan when warning her that Josie was naive in the matters of love, scared to seize what was openly offered. Sometimes, she just needed a little _push._  
  
Leliana turned to glance at the Inquisitor, who was now staring at the courtyard below, pensive, already formulating a plan of action.  
  
"I would refrain from informing our Ambassador before you go, Inquisitor. I fear if she found out, she would not be conducive to the completion of your objective."  
  
Trevelyan nodded with vigour, her mouth drawn into a thin line. Leliana rolled her eyes. _This was too easy_. Josie would be informed of course, but only when everything was in motion. Leliana would get an earful from the Ambassador, true, but she'd be grateful in the end, like before, when it took the Spymaster's pointed needling of Trevelyan to get the hopeless pair to admit their attraction to one another. She sighed.  _Truly, how would Skyhold function without their fearless Spymaster?_ The correspondence from her Warden and made her wistful, and Maker be damned, Leliana fancied a little fairytale romance. And Josie and Trevelyan were playing their parts wonderfully.  
  
Realising the Inquisitor was still standing at her shoulder, deep in thought, Leliana gave a soft snort.  _Did she have to do everything for this hapless pair?_ She grinned.  _A few pointers in the bedroom maybe?_  Leliana cleared her throat, taking an exaggerated sniff.  
  
"Perhaps, your grace, it would be beneficial for you to partake in a bath. In the meantime I'll send out a missive to this Lord Otranto on your behalf. We can't have Andraste's herald going out to a duel smelling like a tavern's back alley."  
  
Glancing down at her dishevelled form, Trevelyan blushed and nodded, making her way to the staircase.  
  
"Oh, and Inquisitor? Remember, not a word to mademoiselle Montilyet."  
  
Zipping her fingers across her mouth, Trevelyan gave another nod before clomping down the stairwell, considerably lighter than she had coming up.

 

* * *

 

 

Cullen glanced up from the mission reports he was hunched over, meeting Trevelyan's steady gaze as she waited for an answer, idly playing with a ringlet of wet hair as she did so.  
  
"You're  _actually_  serious?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You are aware we have leagues of professional fighters; an entire division of highly skilled duellists at our disposal?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So..." His brow knit together in confusion. "Why not dispatch one of them?"  
  
"I'm not wasting Inquisition resources on a purely...  _personal matter."_  Trevelyan's tone remained firm but Cullen had to bite back a grin at the embarrassed blush that crept along the Inquisitor's cheeks as she butted the toe of her boot against the ground.  
  
"Fine, but why ask me to be your Second? I've never partaken in an official duel before. Surely Cassandra would be a better candidate?"  
  
"Perhaps, but firstly, Josephine cannot know about this and secondly: Cassandra , for all her straight forward practicality and skills, couldn't keep this a secret if her life depended on it. She'd go bright red every time she saw Josephine and blurt it out sooner or later."  
  
Cullen frowned. In the short time he had known her, Cassandra had always been the picture of restraint and nobility. She had come close to losing her temper, yes, but the concept of her  _flustered_?  
  
"We  _are_ talking of the same Seeker Pentaghast, yes?"  
  
Trevelyan nodded vigorously.  
  
"Our dear Seeker is actually quite the romantic, would you believe. All picnics and poetry, with a penchant for shining bright knights with piercing eyes and sensitive souls." She leaned in conspiratorially, with a mischievous gleam in her eye and waggle of her brow. "You could be in there, Commander."  
  
Cullen groaned, standing straight with slumped shoulders.  
  
"Furthermore, Cullen, this would be a statement." All humour disappeared from the Inquistor's tone as she leant down to meet his gaze in earnest. "You represent more than just a solid sword hand. Having you at my back, the leader of the Inquisition's armed forces will send out the message of what one has to contend with should they trifle with us or..." The blush returned, her voice trailing off quietly "Josie. Also," she added, still quiet but no less sincere. " _You're my friend._  I trust you and I'd feel safer knowing you're behind me, ready to bust a skull or two if need be."  
  
Cullen flushed slightly, taken aback by Trevelyan's frank response. After a lengthy moment's consideration, he sighed.  
  
"I would just like it on record that I think this is a  _ridiculous_  idea."  
  
"So you'll do it?!" Trevelyan squeaked, equal parts surprised and relieved. "Good, because Leliana's already sent a messenger with one of my gauntlets. If all goes to plan we should be ready to set out for Val Royeaux in three days." She made for the door while Cullen stood gawping.  
  
"Three days!?"  
  
Trevelyan nodded, leaving Cullen with one last devious smirk.  
  
"Should give you time to at least make an attempt at a haiku for our Nevarran Princess."  
  
Alone, Cullen blushed furiously at the idea.  
 _  
No.  
Could I? Perhaps.  
Maybe._

 

* * *

 

 

Giving the saddlebag a final tug, Trevelyan was satisfied, giving her steed a firm pat on its hindquarter, before turning to the resident Spymaster.  
  
"Are you sure you don't wish to ride with us?"  
  
"I am certain, Inquisitor. I have a few loose ends left to tie up here. And anyway, I travel faster by myself; I should be able to catch up in sufficient time. Trust me, your worship,  _I wouldn't miss this for the world._ " Leliana gave a wry grin. It had been a while since something like this had given her so much simple enjoyment. From scribing the declaration of offence to giving the Herald advice on the finer points of duelling after catching the Inquisitor and Dorian bickering in the library below and with the Tevinter , coaching her on how to add a certain flourish to proceedings. She had even lent Krem a hand in adjusting the Inquisitor's commissioned Winter Palace attire into something more moveable and frankly, flattering, with the absolutely most  _darling_ pair of brogue boots buffed to the point of blinding her enemies. All that remained was one final puzzle piece to fall into place.  
  
Bidding adieu to Trevelyan and her small troupe of medics, envoys and Varric, who insisted on documenting this 'for posterities sake', Leliana returned to the rookery and waited. Idly, she made a mental note to keep an eye out for any new volumes of Hard in Hightown featuring a pair of blushing virgins fumbling through their love and lust for one another. She deserved some royalties at the very least.  
  
It was several candle marks before Josie eventually appeared, thundering up the stairway, sending Leliana's ravens fluttering into the twilight sky.  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
"Mhmm?" Leliana's expression was one of schooled bewilderment, with a hint of annoyance at being so rudely interrupted.  
  
" _You know, Leli._ Where is Evelyn? None of the servants will tell me, saying they haven't seen her all day."  
  
The former Bard's brow furrowed, feigning thought.  
  
"There was mention of her meeting a Lord for some... business. Orlando, I think his name was?"  
  
 _"You know fine well his name, Leliana."_  Josie hissed, glaring at her friend, eyes burning into her skin. The Spymaster fought a shiver that threatened to travel the length of her spine. Her Antivan friend could make grown men weep for their mothers when rightly incensed. "Now come, we must catch them before nightfall." Josephine moved to stand by the staircase.  
  
"But you don't even know where they've gone to, Josie."  
  
" _You do, however."_  She grabbed the Orlesian none to gently around the wrist, tugging her " _Don't feign incredulity with me, Leli._ Your poor innocent chantry girl eyes do not work here. Now," Josephine's tone took on a sickeningly sweet camber, her fierce gaze at odds with the demure smile taking residence on her cheeks. "After you,  _Sister."_  
  
As Leliana descended, she could not help swallowing thickly, nervous for once at the prospect of the earache she would no doubt be receiving on the journey to Val Royeaux. Her only consolation was that what she stood to face would pale in to comparison to the tongue lashing the Inquisitor would receive from her dearest Josephine, should they arrive either too early or late.  
 _  
Maker's breath. The Void knows no fury like a Montilyet scorned._

 

* * *

 

 

Passing the gates to the Orlesian capital, Trevelyan drew a deep breath. She did not think she would ever acclimatize to the sheer size and grandeur of Val Royeaux. Growing up relatively well off in Ostwick, the Inquisitor was no stranger to the pomp and ceremony that came hand in hand with nobility, but she had always been one to hide from the more ridiculous spectacles, preferring issues that could be resolved with a swift smack with a big sword.  _Bigger the better,_  she had said once and it took her a further two years to figure out why her brothers always sniggered so when she repeated it.  
  
The market place was a thrum of activity, busier than usual. No doubt word had gotten out that the rising Inquisition had beef to be settled and were ready for a display, if rumours regarding the fall of the Hinterlands dragon were anything to go by. Quietly, Trevelyan was relieved Otranto had chosen such an open and public space for the event. It meant less room for any potential high jinks or dirty dealings and while normally she was not above such shenanigans, the Inquisitor was determined to do everything by the book, for Josephine's sake at the very least.  
  
Turning her head to the left, the Inquisitor gave a small frown.  
  
"Varric? Aren't you going to stay?"  
  
"And what? Hold your hand and promise that no matter what happens, you'll always be a winner to me?" Varric screwed up his face, snorting. "You'll be fine! I need to hurry and get a good vantage point so I can capture this just right! Forget about me, it'll be like I'm not even here!"  
  
Allowing a small smile and shake of her head, Trevelyan dismounted, allowed her squire to lead her horse away as she straightened her garb, waiting for her opponent to arrive. Glancing up, the Inquisitor felt Cullen stand proud beside her as Minister Bellise approached, her gaze glimmering with a predatory excitement behind her impassive mask.  
  
"Ah, Inquisitor,  _bienvenue._  It is a pleasure to see you again in such interesting times. A pity you are spoken for, however. Oh! Where are my manners?" She guffawed in feign embarrassment, as if seeing Cullen for the first time, every lilt in her tone carefully calculated as she dissected the man with her predatory gaze. "Lady Lenora Bellise, Minister for Gentrified Affairs and Noble Dalliances of Val Royeaux, at your acquaintance." She offered her hand, which Cullen graciously accepted, giving it a light peck.  
  
"Commander Cullen Rutherford, a pleasure. I must say, that's a rather... inventive title, Minister."  
  
Bellise gave a nonchalant shrug, and Trevelyan was taken aback by the sheer amount of smug that managed to radiate through the expressionless mask.  
  
"Val Royeaux is full of inventive people, Commander. It simply stands to reason one would need an officiator to keep the Game... _sporting_ , non? If you fear you are lacking in imagination Commander, I may be able to assist you in a crash course of sorts?"  
  
At Cullen's mumbling, stuttered refusal, Bellise only gave a chiding tut, turning to rake her gaze up the length of the Inquisitor hungrily. "Poor lamb does not know what he is missing." Ignoring Trevelyan's furious blush, Bellise instead glanced over the Inquisitor's shoulder, her eyes crinkling with delight as Lord Otranto loped up behind them. As the Minister departed to greet the competition, Cullen and Trevelyan turned, the Commander muttering angrily in her ear as they parted with their travelling cloaks, handing them to a nearby squire.

"I can't believe you had sex with that woman you,  _you harlot!"_  
  
"Look, it was for the greater good."  
  
" _Inquisitor,_  I hope you know I have no qualms as to where, who or how people relieve their stresses. There is however a difference between getting your rocks off and poking a hornet's nest."  
  
"Oh she did a lot more than just poking, trust me." Trevelyan shot the Commander a grave expression. She swore that on especially cold mornings she could still feel a phantom twang right between-  
  
"Ah!" The dusky noble ahead of them proclaimed, acknowledging the Inquisitor's band for the first time, his eggshell blue finery glittering in the Orlesian sun. If she were of another persuasion, Trevelyan could see herself falling for the swaggering cad of a man.  _Perhaps she just had a thing for cocky, confident Antivans?_ The man bowed graciously, as two of his guard came to flank him, each carrying what looked like a sheathed rapier. Perfect. " I am Lord Otranto of Antiva, rightfully betrothed of Lady Josephine Montilyet."  
  
"And I am Lady Trevelyan , Andraste's Herald and Leader of The Inquisition. And this is my left foot, rightfully betrothed to your arse." She curtsied, as the crowd sniggered around them. "A pleasure."  
  
"Indeed!" Otranto gave a strong laugh, a dangerous mirth lighting his gaze as the two guards approached Cullen, offering each weapon for inspection. "Such fire in your words! Songs of your exploits have spread to my city, Inquisitor. It is humbling to meet your acquaintance and to see that the minstrels do not undervalue your radiant beauty, aura or ferocity!" He glanced to the Minister, now joined with the Captain of the Val Royeaux Guard. "Should we discuss stricture?"  
  
"Oui. Given the circumstances, both parties may agree upon satisfaction to first blood, forfeit or to the death."  
  
Cullen glanced up from his inspection. "Well, now there's no need to be so dramat-"  
  
"I shall neither die nor submit. Not today." Trevelyan cut across the Commander, earning a tut and sigh as he returned to studying the weapons.  
  
"Ah, but my Lady, first blood is so cheap! There is no real fight if one is terrified of staining their silks." Otranto pouted, giving an exaggerated whine.  
  
"You misunderstand, my Lord. I am simply stating I shall be doing neither. I shall leave it to your satisfaction how you wish to yield to me."   
  
Otranto chuckled, appreciative and smiled with genuine warmth towards the Inquisitor as he clapped.  
  
"Submission it is then, my dear. I would never forgive myself of robbing Thedas of such beauty and passion and light! I am liking you more and more, my Lady. However, I find the notion of your triumph today painfully _inconceivable_. May you be a worthy opponent."  
  
Giving a nod to Otranto's men, Cullen returned one of the rapiers, offering the other to the Trevelyan as Otranto affixed his weapon.  
  
"Are you _sure,_ Inquisitor? I know you favour large swords, great swords,  _dragon bone swords._  This is leagues lighter and requires an entirely different stance, mind set and finesse. And I've never even seen you so much as _practice._  There would be no shame in forfeiting or demanding a more familiar weapon."  
  
Her scabbard firmly in place, the Inquisitor rolled her eyes, offering a good natured sigh. "Honestly, Cullen. This is my life's blood. If I could not swing a sword, I could not call myself a Trevelyan. My family would rather curse the Maker and his Bride before forfeiting a fight. Just because I like to solve issues by smacking things with the biggest stick available doesn't mean I can't be  _couth_  when I need to. Trust me, Cullen. Just this once. Oh and the reason you never saw me was because I practiced with Dorian in the library." She smirked. "Away from prying eyes."  
  
"What!?-"  
  
Bowing, Otranto waved his sword in the Inquisition's direction, motioning his head towards the Commander. "Trouble with the wife, Inquisitor? I trust the blade is to your satisfaction?"

Standing forward and giving a small bow in return, the pair took to circling one another, Trevelyan letting the blade dance through her fingers in artistic circles just as Dorian had mentored her, finessing her showmanship.  
  
"Of course. Rapiers will have to do if you feel out of depth with more  _substantial_ weapons."  
  
Otranto gave another hearty chuckle, affection lighting his gaze as he continued to circle. Lunging forward, he tested his blade. _Confident but with little in the way of grace in his strikes._ Trevelyan parried them easily with a gentle sidestep and gave a relaxed breath, any remaining nerves abandoning her. His moves were ridiculously easy to telegraph. Clearly the man was used to duelling and winning through submission, using his sheer force and power to overwhelm his foe. Trevelyan let a small grin light her face, catching Otranto's intense gaze as he smirked, a confident ferocity taking over him as his eyes wandered the length of the Inquisitor.  
  
"Before we get too far into proceedings, my Lady, I regret I must inform you of one thing, _inconceivable_  as it may be," He smirked, ready to unveil his trump card.  
  
"Mhmm?" The Inquisitor inquired.  _This should be good._ In a heavily practiced flourish, Otranto allowed his blade to dance to his opposite hand.  
  
"I am not left handed."  
  
"Ah, Excellent," Trevelyan clicked her tongue, struggling to keep her eyes from rolling back into her head.  _Maker, how passé. This was going to be easy._  "That reminds me, there is something I ought to tell you,"   
  
Otranto frowned, confused. Trevelyan merely gave a gleeful grin, launching the blade into the air, allowing it to spin wildly as it arced over her head, landing delicately in her right.  
  
 _"Neither am I."_

 

* * *

 

 

Leliana stared out the carriage window, eyes glazed. They had ridden through the night, only Josephine's intermittent growls and tirades about  _how ridiculous everyone was, by the Maker, I can't believe she is really doing this and ugh, Leli, I just know you put her up to this you... you.. gah! You know you started this by scaring her, yes? Neither of us are children. How dare you!? I am merely thankful you haven't frightened her off completely yet from myself and the Inquisition! You are an utter horror!_ followed by several minutes of angry breathing and dangerous silence before she began again.  
  
The Spymaster perked up, however as Val Royeaux's gold and marble gates gleamed, welcoming them. She prayed to the Maker they had arrived with enough time to spare. Andraste only knew what Josie would be like if she managed to stop proceedings before they had even begun, or worse, arrived at the tail end, with only fury to fuel her. Leliana felt a tug at her sleeve, before being hauled out of the carriage and into the heart of the Orlesian capital.  
  
"Where are they fighting?"  
  
"I don't kn-"  
  
 _"To the Void with you, Leli! Where is she?!"_  
  
"Truly, Josie, I don't know," And she didn't. As Spymaster, it was crucial she was up to date with any and all dalliances revolving the Inquisition. However, time on the field and at the hands of Marjolaine had taught her the wisdom and safety in selective ignorance. She needed to give the Inquisitor time to play this out, without Josie dragging her whereabouts out of her pre-emptively. Furthermore, she would also prefer if Josie didn't flay her alive. She gave a small huff.   
  
 _This was all the Warden's fault._ Her insufferable, caring, beautiful, loving Warden who had the  _gall_  to vanish into the ether in search of a way to help her Order and find a way to prolong her time with her beloved.  _Yes._ It was definitely the Warden's fault, giving Leliana no other outlet for her romantic notions than the band of endearing dolts she called her colleagues. She really should find a safer way to vent these impulses.  _Maybe I should invest in some dolls, like Josie?_  Idly, she realised the Antivan was still staring at her, expectantly, before making a disgusted noise. Leliana snorted.  
  
"You are spending far too much time with Cassandra."  
  
"And you, my dear Nightingale, are as useful as a chocolate fire guard!" Josephine tutted before taking a steadying breath. "Alright. Where would Evelyn arrange a fight? More to the point, where would Cullen allow her to arra-" Realisation flashed across the Ambassador's face before she shook her head, giving a soft sigh and thankfully, Leliana saw the flicker of a grin tickle Josephine's features. " _The crowds._ Of course she would. Come," She grabbed Leliana's hand. "Let's follow the crowds."

 

Reaching the second level of the market district, Josephine continued to drag Leliana, her eyes scanning the throngs below for the telltale glint of her Inquisitor. So focused was she that, turning a corner, she very nearly barrelled over Varric, who was likewise focused intently on the scene down below, scribbling notes furiously on parchment.  
  
"Varric what are you- _oh_!" Leliana's gaze flicked from the dwarf, who was shushing Josephine, waving a hand in her direction as he strained to follow the happenings on the ground level, to the source of his attention and the Spymaster gave a small grin and chuckle as she recognised the clash of steel and delightful dance of the Inquisitor, a sight to behold just as she had predicted.  _Excellent._  She glanced at Josie, who had loosened her grip on her hand and was instead watching the Inquisitor rapt, her teeth gently tugging at her lower lip. _Honestly,_  Leliana thought. _If it wasn't for her, the hapless couple would have never gone beyond shy blushes and coquettish giggles._  
  
Clearing her throat, Leliana watched with amusement as Josie snapped back to the present, some of her indignant rage returning with her. Before the Spymaster could inquire, Josie was away in a swish of golden silk, fighting her way back down to the level below. Turning back to enjoy the fireworks, Leliana's gaze flickered down to Varric and his notes, barely legible, a Venn diagram of ideas and emotions along with crude sketches of the scene unfolding before them.  
  
"Wouldn't you rather be down there, in the heart of it?"  
  
"No, no no!" Varric gave a hearty chuckle. "I need to be here, developing the bigger picture,  _scene setting!_ " He glanced up at Leliana, a devious smirk and mischief playing across his features. "I've got my people, too, Nightingale. The boy's down there, transcribing my manuscript for me while I capture the flow and feel, you see."  
  
An amused hum lilted from Leliana's throat as she leaned on the marble balustrade as she focused on the Inquisitor below.  
  
"By all means, my merchant prince, do not let me interrupt your tale."

 

* * *

 

 

Otranto lunged once more, slowly getting more agitated as his blows consistently landed just too short of his foe. To keep the crowd and herself entertained more than anything, the Inquisitor offered a few test blows of her own and indeed, had to stop herself from automatically pressing the advantage as Otranto left his entire right side open, twice, allowing Trevelyan at least one clear shot at his neck. Sensing he had somehow miraculously escaped his mistakes, the Lord backed off momentarily and The Inquisitor swore she saw an odd admiration when he eyed her next, a wheeze in his chest as he started to lose his breath.  
  
" _Inconceivable_ , perhaps House Trevelyan isn't the obscure backwater I've heard it to be."  
  
The Inquisitor pushed forward, faking offence at the comment, feigning to Otranto's right, which he had now over guarded to make up for his past mistake, before dashing to his left, leaving two slices through the fabric of his doublet, under his armpit, grazing through to his skin, enough to draw beaded droplets of blood along his torso.  
  
"Please! Us swamp folk can be regal too. In our own special ways." Her speed allowed her three more lackadaisical swipes at his exposed back before the Lord turned around, using his momentum to bring down his sword with him, requiring Trevelyan to pirouette away, his rapier clattering into the stone where she had been standing moments before, sending sparks flying up an into the crowd.   
  
Taking advantage of his hunched form, Trevelyan pounced, rolling over Otranto's back, losing her balance only slightly as he recovered faster than anticipated, swinging his sword around again, forcing Trevelyan to bend back, allowing the metal to sail inches above her face. Standing tall, Trevelyan gave a roguish smirk.

  
"How unfortunate. You see, growing up, father always told me men were inherently better at swordplay because they were allowed more practice." She parried his blow with ease, dancing back to an abandoned stall, quickly scanning it for footholds and structural integrity. "A pity that relentless practice with your pork sword hasn't translated to foil work proper. Truly, I am doing you a favour, allowing you more time to hone your handiwork without interference from a pesky bride demanding to be loved and cherished at all hours of the day."  
  
An appreciative growl escaped Otranto as a dangerous grin lit his face.  
  
"My lady, it sounds as you are envious, your fascination with my... swordsmanship. If you like, my wife and I could invite you to a practice session were we could compare technique further. Perhaps we could ease your sorrow over not possessing a suitable instrument yourself by allowing you to play with mine?"

  
Quickly scaling the stall, Trevelyan launched herself, coming to perch on the marble balustrade above. Waiting for Otranto to join her, clumsily clambering up the architecture himself, The Inquisitor threw back her head, allowing a light cackle to escape her, face ablaze with mirth.  
  
"Oh my dear boy! I have a range of instruments for every occasion! Our only difference is that I prefer to keep mine in my drawer as opposed to my smalls. More pertinently, however," Trevelyan stared at the Lord, pouting, eyes wide with mock seriousness as he finally came to stand, his footing more shaky and unsure on the narrow ledge than the Inquisitor's. "Is your belief that simple sword work is the raison d'être of coital shenanigans. My condolences go to the unfortunate soul designated your consolation prize of a wife."

Trevelyan padded backwards delicately, dipping and diving half hearted strikes sent in her direction as Otranto fumbled after her, his eyes downcast, focused on his footwork. "I'll- make- sure to- keep her warm for you- wait." His head shot up, brow furrowed as he dissected his last statement in his mind. _Josephine or the other wife?_  
  
Continuing her backwards path, Trevelyan came across Leliana and Varric, the only two in the crowd who hadn't jumped several feet back when the duel was brought to the upper deck. The dwarf paid her only passing notice, with a devilish smirk and tongue caught between his teeth in concentration as he jotted furiously on a piece of parchment and the former Bard giving a mischievous grin, Leliana's rare, genuine joy lighting her features with a beautiful radiance. _At least Leliana is happy. Which is an achievement in itself, really._  
  
Glancing back to her adversary, Trevelyan noticed, in his excitement, Otranto's footwork was becoming sloppy and dangerous. She gave an internal sigh. Falling and breaking his neck would put a dampener on proceedings and hardly the dashing, heroic end Trevelyan had envisioned. Reaching the end of the balcony, Trevelyan took one last cheeky swipe at the Lord before stepping backwards, allowing herself to drop, slowing her descent by wrapping an arm around the colonnade before stopping, drawing her legs in to her chest and feet against the marble surface before propelling herself away, somersaulting backwards back onto the market floor. Standing to her full height, she held her arms out, inviting her foe to join her.  
  
Dropping his shoulders, Otranto looked down on her menacingly, a predatory smirk on his lips as an agitated rumble escaped them. He jumped, heavily landing on both feet on the level below. Trevelyan winced slightly, as if feeling his rattled bones herself.  
  
"I grow tired of games. Let us finish, Inquisitor. I'm just glad Lady Montilyet isn't here, exquisite as I've heard her appearance to be." He attempted to advance on her, panting slightly. Growing bored with his posturing, however, Trevelyan met him, deflecting any swipes he sent her way, pushing him back several steps until they eventually clashed, faces inches away from one another, separated only by finest steel. "Cutting you down in front of Josephine would have given a poor first impression of House Otranto to my future wife."  
  
"Oh, fear not, sweetheart." Trevelyan cooed, talking as if to a small child, betrayed only by her determined scowl, darkly delighted when Otranto failed to meet it with one of his own. "I'll be sure to tell Josephine you fought very bravely."  
  
"I admire your fearlessness, my Lady, as _inconceivable_ as it may be."  
  
Trevelyan's nose screwed up as she scowled, equal parts agitated and confused.  
  
"You keep using that word-"  
  
 _"Stop!"_

_Maker, she knew that voice._  Backing off slightly, The Inquisitor glanced into the crowd, astonished to see Josephine fighting her way through the throng. Her heart plummeted.  _One thing I forgot to account for._  
  
Unfamiliar with the shout, the Lord saw Trevelyan's moment of distraction, capitalising on it. Pushing forward, he overpowered the Inquisitor's guard, managing to slip his sword down, neatly slicing down Trevelyan's cheek. The bite of steel brought the Inquisitor's attention back to the fight. With a tut of annoyance more than anything, The Inquisitor quickly advanced on the Lord, giving several quick jabs of her rapier, forcing him to stumble and retreat. Another flash of steel and Trevelyan had worked the tip of her Rapier in between Otranto's grip and with one deft flick, ejected her combatants weapon from his grasp. One more aggressive step forward and the Lord fell backwards, a fine point of pressure on his jugular as Trevelyan's rapier threatened to puncture his throat, a bead of blood already forming around the tip. Otranto gazed up to the Inquisitor with an odd mixture of awe and admiration, before turning his attention to the source of Trevelyan's distraction, his voice weak.  
  
"Lady Montilyet?"  
  
Josephine stormed past, paying no heed to the man on the ground, instead rounding on the Inquisitor, jabbing her chest so the Inquisitor stumbled off her fallen adversary, an unbridled fury and a righteous anger dominating Josephine's glare. Trevelyan shrunk under the Ambassador's gaze, no longer the suave, sophisticated master duellist but a scolded puppy in the most terrible of trouble.  
  
"What are you _doing!?"_  
  
"I-If-I just-" Trevelyan attempted to respond, her tongue suddenly feeling two sizes too large, and all her previous reasoning now seeming ridiculously foolish. Embarrassment engulfed her.  _Perhaps Cullen had a point, earlier._  "I-If I duel Lord Otranto to stop your betrothal, any dishonour would fall on me and not your family."  
  
Josephine gave a frustrated growl, shaking her head in disbelief, her glare still full of ire.  
  
 _"I would have found a way around it! Is that all you think I fret about? **My reputation!?**_ " Rolling her eyes and turning, Josie appealed to the heavens in frustration before rounding on the Inquisitor once more. "The Inquisition needs you! _I_  need you! And here you are throwing yourself into unnecessary danger! And without even conferring with me about it,  _my own betrothal!_  Why?"  
  
 _Oh by Andraste's mercy, may the ground swallow me whole._  
  
"Because you would have told me not to."  
  
 _"And with good reason, too!"_ The Antivan's nose wrinkled in an odd mixture of confusion and disgust. "Do you think me a piece of meat to be fought over? _To be won?_ A prize at some Maker forsaken fair!?"  
  
" _Of course not!"_  Trevelyan bit back, her indignation finally rising to meet Josephine's, before dipping again, embarrassed. "I just- If I fought off the betrothal, you would be free! Free to make your own decisions, choices. And maybe," Her voice cracked, small and unsure once more. "I don't know. Maybe you'd choose me."  
  
"But  _why!?"_ Josephine continued pleadingly, anger being replaced with exasperation in her voice. "Why risk everything we've built? Why risk your  _life_?"  
  
"Because!- Because I think I love you."

Josephine's eyes bulged, so shocked she forgot to change her tone, still sounding incensed.  
  
"You  _think_?-"  
  
"Well, I" The Inquisitor squirmed slightly, a furious blush alighting her cheeks. _I'm going to be sick. In front of everyone. You've ruined everything, **Inquisitor**. Congratulations. Forget Andraste's Herald, you're Andraste's fucking Arse._  Her gaze never left the cobbled street as she frowned, hating herself.   
  
"I  _know_  I do, it's just if I said _think_ , it would give me an out in case you didn't return the sentiment and stop me appearing foolish."She frowned, muttering. " _For all that's worked._ " Her shoulders slumped as she looked to the sky for guidance, sighing as everything she had worked for fell apart. She returned her gaze back down, before meeting the Ambassador's eye and Josephine's heart caught in her throat at the raw intensity radiating from the Inquisitor's being.  
  
" _I love you,_  Josie. So  _much_  it kind of hurts." She said quietly and intently, sounding tired. Her eyes fell back to the ground, too heavy to keep up. "Duelling is one of the things I am legitimately good at. I just thought that I could help, if I could stop this for you, take away the stress, _Maker_ , but I'm just..."  _A fool? An idiot? An embarrassment? Take your pick._ She gave a deep sigh, shoulders slumping. "I love you, Josephine. And I'm sorry."  
  
When she found the courage to glance back up at her lover's face, expecting to find some sort of disgust or annoyance or mortification, Trevelyan instead saw Josephine gawking at her, a dreamy, gentle grin playing across her face.  
  
"Y-You love...? _Don't you ever apologise-"_ She gave a soft snort of laughter. "Maker's breath, I love you, too."  
  
 _Wha-?_ Hope flared in the Inquisitor's chest but before such emotion could translate to her face, Josie was upon her. Nearly bowled over by the Antivan, Trevelyan instead gathered her lover in her arms, swinging around before jolting her into the air, Josie's surprised, gleeful giggle ringing like the sweetest music in her ears. Barely had she placed the woman back on firm ground before they were kissing, hard and intense, an iron grip on one another communicating what mere words failed to. Peeking an eye over her lover's shoulder, Trevelyan could not stop the grin spreading across her lips as she saw Josephine's leg rise, as she stood on tip toe to meet the Inquisitor's embrace. Delicately, Josephine drew a handkerchief, dabbing Trevelyan's bloodied cheek clean, before placing a chaste kiss on the injury.  
  
Blushing, Cullen resisted the temptation to clear his throat as he bent down to retrieve the discarded rapier. Standing straight he watched as Otranto was helped to his feet by an aide and limp gingerly towards him. Expecting ire or rage from the Lord, Cullen was instead pleasantly relieved to see a satisfied boyish glee underpinning an otherwise calm exterior.  
  
"Well fought." He accepted the loaned rapier back, his head bowed and flushing slightly. "I'd assumed the liaison with the Inquisitor was an affair of passion or convenience, and the challenge a slight or attack on my family. But I am not fool enough to stand in the way of true affection."  
  
"Thank you," Josephine responded, walking over to the Lord, her arm firmly around the Inquisitor's waist, unwilling to let her go lest she disappear to fight anyone else in the Antivan's name. "Truly."  
  
Otranto merely raised a hand, shaking his head as a smile tinged with regret danced across his features.  
  
"The Otrantos regretfully with draw our terms of betrothal. Please, my ladies, I know when I am out matched." He gave an appraising glance to Trevelyan, raising his fist to his chest. "Should the Inquisition need further allies or assistance in the East, House Otranto shall stand by you with pride."  
  
With one last grateful nod and chest bump of her own, Trevelyan turned her attention back to Josephine. Letting his eyes rove over the couple a moment longer, Otranto leaned into Cullen, conspiratorially.  
  
"One question, Commander. Lady Trevelyan. Does she have a sister," His eyes studied Trevelyan, contemplating. "who is... likewise skilled in _swordplay?"_  
  
Cullen's face fell into a stony glare.

 

* * *

 

 

The reunion had been sweet, Leliana decided, deliciously so. However, the Inquisition stopped for no one, not even their fearless leader and sharp tongued Ambassador. After a celebratory drink at the nearest tavern and Leliana glaring the defeated Lord Otranto over her glass of honeyed wine, contemplating whether she should swap her figurative daggers for literal ones at the way he blushed anytime either Trevelyan or Josie glanced his way, the party set out for Skyhold once more. With good pace, the band could make it back before midnight and with both the Inquisitor and her advisors out in the open, Leliana was not privy to chancing their luck further, the House of Repose remaining an ominous presence in the back of her mind.  
  
Allowing Varric to take the carriage back so that he may 'hone his latest masterpiece and give the Kid a lesson in the craft'- _Was Cole always here?_ She had frowned in confusion when the might-be-spirit suddenly appeared just behind the Dwarf, as if summoned. Leliana took to his mount, following closely behind The Inquisitor's giant moose-y monstrosity. Rolling her eyes, the loved up pair in front of her became sickeningly sweet, nearly making the Spymaster gag as by the most serendipitous of chances, they party ended up one steed short and the Inquisitor, ever noble dolt that she was, allowed Josephine passage with her, helping the Antivan  _'Sit abreast my Hart, dearest. Careful, it only allows those who tame it'_ with a dopey grin that both warmed and aggravated the Bard. Leliana contemplated scolding said Antivan as she encouraged the Inquisitor with coquettish giggles and devious looks that would make the most pious of Divines flush crimson. _Is this my retribution, Maker? My punishment for devout service and allowing your love to flourish? If so, strike me down, please._  
  
Before they had departed the gates, they were met by one of the Spymaster's scurrying messengers, hurrying to catch the troupe and handing each advisor their own, now familiar stacks of missives, requests and reports. With a grimace she noted Josephine's own pile, easily twice that of Leliana and Cullen's combined. So they set off, and with no time like the present, Josephine sat side saddle, tucking into Trevelyan's chest and began reading over her reports. Leliana could never accuse the Anitvan of being work shy as she kept an eye on the duo and their whispered conversations, discussing and dissecting the latest in pompous requests and demands from the Orlesian capital and as the sun set, Josephine substituted nature's light for the Inquisitor's own, her left hand crackling gently with a green aura, allowing the Antivan to continue as darkness fell and guiding the troupe home.

 

Despite Josephine's efforts however, they had barely made a dent in her workload hours later, as they cleared Skyhold's threshold and Leliana winced at the deep frown on her friend's face as she hopped down from the Wild Hart. Dismounting her own, Leliana waited for Trevelyan, accompanying her up the steps to the Main Hall, Josephine having already disappeared behind the great doors. Glancing across, Leliana gave a gentle smile as the Inquisitor gazed forlornly at the space occupied by the Antivan moments ago.  
  
"Honey moon over already, my dearest Herald?"  
  
The Inquisitor met her gaze, giving a wistful snort.  
  
"Something like that," Trevelyan sighed. "You're not the only one who will be grateful when all this nonsense is over. Josephine works herself far too hard. At least there are pauses in between my fights and battles. People just constantly demand everything from Josie. She needs a break."  
  
"Oh, your holiness," Leliana slung her arm around the Noble, giving her a comforting squeeze. "Josie's always been like this, it's what she does, who she is. And when this Corypheus is eventually dealt with," She slid her eyes discreetly, watching the Inquisitor's reaction. "She'll move straight on to planning the wedding-"  
  
 _"The what!?"_ Trevelyan squawked, causing a few of the patrons still awake to glance over at the pair momentarily. Leliana merely cocked an eyebrow, battling the grin that threatened to overwhelm her face.  
  
"The wedding, Inquisitor?"  
  
"But she- I- we-" the Noble stuttered, eyes flitting wildly between Leliana and the closed door to the Ambassador's office.  
  
"Yes, you duelled for her honour, and broke her betrothal, leaving her to choose and she chose you. So now you're both betrothed to one another, non? I hope you have a ring, there still might be time to get you a proper dress. Maybe some shoes."  
  
Trevelyan merely boggled at Leliana, her mouth stuttering and fumbling for a few seconds more before the Spymaster couldn't contain her mirth any longer, letting out a rather unladylike snort, to which Trevelyan gave a petulant scowl.  
  
 _"You, Sister Nightingale, are an absolute horror. Keep it up and you shan't be invited!"_  
  
"Please, Inquisitor, you couldn't keep me away if you tried. I'll perform the ceremony if I have to."  
  
"I'll hold you to that."  
  
"Very well, Now " Leliana's smile softened, as affection crinkled her eyes. Grabbing the Inquisitor by the shoulders, she turned her to face the Ambassador's office, pointing. "Don't let her work until dawn and do not keep her up all night. Or if you do, at least allow her a long lie in the morning. Use, that _insufferable_  charm if you have to, Inquisitor."  
  
Receiving a chuckle in response, Leliana ruffled the hair on the back of Trevelyan's head before playfully pushing her away and turning to the staircase for the Rookery.  
  
"Leliana, wait," She peered back, to see the Inquisitor staring at her, a light blush dusting her cheeks. "Thank you, for everything. Uh, m-my name's Evelyn, or, well," She scratched the back of her head, sheepishly, shrugging. "My mother calls me Evie."  
  
Giving a polite bow, Leliana graced the Noble with one last warming smile.  
  
"Very well,  _Evie_. Enjoy the remainder of your night."  
  
"Oh, I intend to."

 

 


End file.
